


It Will Lead Me To You

by thewaythatwerust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, No Dialogue, POV Alternating, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Selfcest, Sexual Content, Stevecest, Stucky - Freeform, Time Travel Shenanigans, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaythatwerust/pseuds/thewaythatwerust
Summary: The pleasure Steve takes in Bucky is empty pleasure only, sating his body but not his heart. He loves Bucky—in every timeline, every universe—they fit together perfectly, puzzle pieces finding a home… but this isn’t his home. He's just languishing here, afraid of the rejection that awaits him when he returns, just as he knows Bucky is taking what he's offering because he's too scared yet to ask for what he really wants, from who he really wants it from.They are each other's port in a storm of their own making.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	It Will Lead Me To You

**Author's Note:**

> i. This started as an amazing prompt from the equally amazing [PossiblePlatypus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibleplatypus), for a tumblr prompt meme: "What if after returning the stones Endgame Steve decides to visit prewar Brooklyn for the nostalgia and gets temporarily stranded and meets Bucky again and can't help falling for him and they start sleeping together but Bucky is really in love with preserum Steve and preserum Steve catches them." 
> 
> I did a little experimenting with styles and Pym Particles (to shrink it), and it went a little off the rails, as tends to happen. It has been changed a fair bit from the tumblr version (because I realized that it made zero sense, wheee!)
> 
> ii. Ten points if you knew the title was from Disney's Hercules "Go The Distance". :)

Steve doesn't mean for it to happen.

He’d returned the stones just like he said he would, with the echo of Bucky’s words of regrets and clean slates ringing loud in his ears. But what Bucky wants for him and what he wants for himself are at odds: there's only _one thing_ in the past he craves.  
  
All he'd wanted was a glimpse, just one, to freshen faded memories. But he’d gotten greedy.

Standing outside the tenement, body against brick, neck twisted to the window, his eyes had fixed beyond the dirty glass, finding the dark-haired figure inside... and lingered longer than he should have. But with breath caught in his throat and chest tight and aching, he _remembers_. Remembers Bucky how he used to be without agony and regret etched into his face and haunting his eyes. Remembers the sound of his laughter, coming quick and easy, carefree, and light. All at once, the faded memories bloom bold and bright—eyes locked on Bucky all the while. _  
_

Guilt floods his body at the thoughts that rise up, at his reaction to Bucky's light. He'd almost forgotten it, let it fade away inside his mind as much as it had from Bucky's soul. His own soul aches with how much he misses it, and he can't stop himself from standing there, drinking it in. It's only when Bucky turns toward the window does Steve get his feet to move, shuffling away from the glass, heart pounding in his chest.

…

The movement outside the window catches Bucky’s attention, and he’s at the door, yanking it open after five quick steps. Steve forgetting his key is a familiar affair. But the man standing outside the door _isn’t_ Steve.  
  
Well, it is, and it isn’t.

Bucky would know Steve anywhere, of course he would. He knows that face better than his own. And this man _is_ Steve—the body may be bigger, _much bigger_ , but those are the same ocean eyes he drowns in, the same lips he dreams about pulling wet moans from every night, and the same bump in his nose from when Steve had protected some dame’s virtue while forgetting to protect his face, and ended up bloody, bruised, and broken (though Steve’s face had nothing on that of the asshole who’d sucker-punched him once Bucky was through with him).

But the Steve in front of him is older—not just his face, but his soul. Weary in a way that’s bleeding from his spirit and soaking into his skin. And there’s something else different in the way this Steve is looking at him—eyes turning stormy, surging with desperate yearning and dark hunger.

…

Steve isn’t sure who moves first, but suddenly the distance between them is gone.  
  
Frantic fingers claw and squeeze, hungry mouths demand and devour as two bodies move as one, staggering through the door and stumbling into the bedroom, clothes falling from their bodies like the moans from their lips.  
  
He collapses back onto the bed, pulling Bucky with him. They drink in each other’s gasps and whines, not coming up for air until Steve’s large hands, wrapped around them both, have wrung every drop of release from throbbing flesh, and their skin is coated in a milky mix of shared pleasure.

…

Bucky doesn’t ask Steve where he goes when he leaves, isn’t sure Steve would tell him, isn’t sure he wants to know. But they both agree that Steve, _his_ Steve, can’t know. While he suspects Steve’s fear is of tearing holes in time, Bucky’s motivations are more selfish—he doesn’t want to think about _his_ Steve while the other takes him apart with clever fingers and hungry lips before driving into his body eagerly, filling him, making him whole.  
  
Over and over, Steve breaks him until he’s crying and begging for more, for mercy, until he’s wrecked and empty.  
  
But lying wrapped in Steve’s arms, the heat of the moment gradually chills, the luster of perfection losing shine as the days go by. His heart grows heavy, knowing the Steve claiming his body is not the Steve that has claimed his heart.

…

The pleasure Steve takes in Bucky is empty pleasure only, sating his body but not his heart. He loves Bucky—in every timeline, every universe—they fit together perfectly, puzzle pieces finding a home… but this isn’t _his_ home. He's just languishing here, afraid of the rejection that awaits him when he returns, just as he knows Bucky is taking what he's offering because he's too scared yet to ask for what he really wants, from who he really wants it from.  
  
They are each other's port in a storm of their own making.  
  
He can see the same realization dawning in light eyes each time he comes back. Bucky’s heart belongs to who Steve _was_ , and his belongs with who Bucky _becomes_. Though no words are spoken, he knows this is the last time. This is goodbye.  
  
Steve pins Bucky’s arms to the thin mattress, a moan tearing from his throat as Bucky arches up _beautifully_ , long, lean lines of muscle shifting under glistening skin. Knees pull up and heels dig into the meat of Steve’s ass. He complies with the silent plea greedily—snapping his hips harder, quicker, shaking the bed, making Bucky writhe and scream. But it’s the soft gasp from behind him that makes him still.

…

Steve is sure the storm of emotions—shock and anger, jealousy and hurt—are filling his eyes and overflowing, feels the heat of it as it stains his cheeks.  
  
The sight of the powerful body driving into Bucky’s makes him _ache_ in too many places at once, makes him want to scream or come or flee. But he stands, watching one form become two, watching Bucky’s lips rush to form explanations and apologies, watching the hulking figure he could never hope to compete with turn to face him… watches the bed rise up as his knees buckle and he crumples to the floor.  
  
…

Answering the questions he can, Steve sees the distressed emotions fade from the face that used to be his, one by one. Those small shoulders settle, and the pain disappears as he looks to Bucky with hopeful eyes, buoyed by the little piece of the future he’d been given.

Familiar hands caress the hard swells of his body, and Steve can feel the echo of wonder feeding into him. He won’t share the how or why, and his other self accepts it without complaint, but it doesn’t quiet the questions in curious fingers. Steve doesn't stop them when they drift lower and wrap around his cock, hissing and nodding permission to imploring eyes. The peculiar sensation of _past_ hands on _present_ flesh quickly surrenders to waves of bliss as they work him toward his previously abandoned climax.

But the hands on him stutter, his smaller form shuddering as one of Bucky’s disappears into straining pants and draws whimpering moans and pleas in a voice that's no longer his. Bucky’s other hand, still flesh and blood, wraps around himself, eyes locked on _his_ Steve in awe.  
  
Fumbling fingers, slick with arousal, slide and stroke and squeeze together, coaxing pleasure to peak on a chorus of strangled moans and keening cries.  
  
  
  
Steve sets the parameters for the jump.  
  
Goodbyes had lingered with lips brushing skin, fingers trailing through hair, and Steve trying to memorize the happiness shining out at him from trusting eyes, so blissfully unaware of the sacrifices life will demand from them. But what must come will always come, and it will serve no purpose to steal their joy now. They will find their way back to themselves, to each other. _Always.  
  
Se_eing his reflection—distorted by time and circumstance—smile and thread delicate fingers through Bucky’s, _here_ , on Bucky’s bed, not months from now at Coney Island on The Cyclone, Steve knows he’s altered the line. Still, he can’t bring himself to regret the extra time he’s given himself with Bucky.

This isn’t _his_ Bucky, though. _His_ Bucky had surrendered him to the past… and isn’t expecting him back. But it’s not the end of the line, not yet. Visiting the past has only shown Steve how much he belongs in the future. The pain in Bucky’s face is a mirror to his own, scars of battles survived— _together._ They’ve fought hard for their future, they’ve _earned_ it, and though they’ve changed through the years, the one constant has always been _love_.  
  
Love that has only matured and deepened through time and tribulations, and he's not going to trade that for a fresh start, and he’s not going to let Bucky throw it away in some grand self-sacrificing gesture, either. He’ll make Bucky see, make him _understand_ that he doesn't need to go back, there's nothing for him here, nothing to change—the past is not a burden; it’s a _gift,_ it’s the path that brought them back together.  
  
Fate has allowed them to find their way back to each other more times than he can count, more times than he deserves, and he's not taking that for granted for one more second.

Heart light in his chest, the two figures wrapped in each other’s arms is the last thing Steve sees before the world blurs around him. He knows now he was always supposed to come here, this was always going to happen. Just like he knows he is always going to let his heart lead him home, and Bucky— _his Bucky_ —is, has always been, and will always be _home._


End file.
